


Copacabana

by thepeopleofvictory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, im so sorry, there were 2 endings but like, this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepeopleofvictory/pseuds/thepeopleofvictory
Summary: Music and passion were always the fashion at the Copa~They were young and they had each other, who could ask for more?--Basically a quick one-shot based on the song Copacabana?





	

**Author's Note:**

> im so so sorryyyyyyyyy~
> 
> blame the band that performed this song in lunch today.

The music is loud and bodies thrumming, from her place at the bar Lexa can see Clarke by the stage, prepping and fiddling with her props. The dress she has on barely hides anything, wrapping tight against her curves, and there are yellow feathers stuck delicately on her golden hair. 

After Clarke deems her stage satisfactory, she makes her way across the nightclub, eyes locked onto Lexa’s, smirking. 

Of course Lexa smirks back. Her girlfriend is hot.

“Lexa,” Clarke almost purrs, leaning gracefully over the countertop, “like what you see?”

“You know I always do,” Lexa deadpans, reaching across the counter to brush away the curls sticking to Clarke’s forehead. The smile she receives is blinding. “So love, getting a pre-show shot?” 

“How about a pre-show kiss instead?” Clarke is cheeky and sultry and Lexa wants to ditch the bartending and bring her girlfriend to a more private corner. 

Too impatient to wait for her reply, Clarke tugs Lexa closer by her collar, eyes darting to her lips. The music is loud and bodies thrumming, but Lexa can only focus on Clarke. The way she grasps so tightly onto her shirt, the way her free hand curls softly on the back of her neck. The way she smells. The way she tastes. It’s intoxicating. 

Unfortunately the kiss is chaste, the nightclub is bursting with people, and patrons require Lexa’s attention. 

The pout that winds up on Lexa’s face is comical and Clarke pats her cheek patronisingly, leaning in again to kiss the tip of her nose before pulling away and heading towards the stage. 

When she turns back to her customers, they throw her multiple thumbs-ups and slap more cash on the counter. One overly-intoxicated man in the corner compliments them, stumbling and shouting, but she can’t bring herself to be mad. 

 

They were young and they had each other, who could ask for more?

 

As she half watches Clarke settle on stage, half mixing drinks, in walks a young man that Lexa somewhat recognises, his entrance conspicuous. He finds a seat not too far away from Lexa at the bar, gesturing with a wad of money for a drink. His attitude is already too arrogant for her. When she asks him for his order he simply smirks and tells her to make him the most expensive drink in the house, which she rolls her eyes at. 

But she can’t remain annoyed for long, because as she grumpily crushes ice, the lights on the stage start flashing, and Clarke is on it, shining and vibrant.

She’s seen it a million times, in their little apartment, when Clarke rehearses in her sweats. But there is something about the way the little dress hugs her, and the flashing lights hitting her, that makes Lexa infinitely more proud. The crowd is wild, the customers at the bar all but forgotten their drinks. Instead they are fixated on Clarke. 

And apparently the newcomer is enjoying the show as well, his smirk, the huge diamond dangling from his neck, all annoying Lexa to no end.

When the song ends, and Clarke slides off the stage with a teasing curtsy, the club’s applause is deafening. She blows a few kisses as she walks towards the bar, and the crowd goes wild, playing along and fighting to catch her kisses. Everyone adores her. 

But before she can reach the door by the bar, the newcomer beckons her over, which she complies to, a dimpled smile in place. 

It’s a nightclub and both Lexa and Clarke are used to overt perving or non-coincidental hand placement. But he takes it too far, grabbing Clarke harshly by the waist, which causes a yelp, and forces her to sit on his lap. She can see Clarke growing steadily more uncomfortable, squirming and a fake smile stiff. Their bouncer, Gustus, she knows, is waiting for her signal to apprehend the fool. But they wait, stern eyes staring, watching Clarke say something and stand up, aiming to move away. 

However he doesn’t seem to care, and the moment she sees him stuff money down Clarke’s cleavage, one hand wandering a too low, she sees red. 

She sails across the bar and tackles the guy. In his shock he doesn’t retaliate, and they fall to the ground. But his shock quickly dissipates, and he throws a fist at her face, knocking her away. The crowd encloses on them, growing wild. It’s been a while since a fight has broken in this place, and to see the owner of the nightclub instigate a fight is refreshing. Bottles are broken and for a short second Lexa stumbles, getting slashed by the broken glass.

Clarke is horrified and worried, but Gustus is holding her back, keeping her safe, ushering her to the side where he knows broken glass wouldn’t be able to hit. 

At the centre of the dance floor Lexa’s fight rages on. She barely manages to avoid getting hit by a chair, whirling around to kick him square in the chest. The chains holding his absurdly large diamond breaking and sending the gem tumbling to the ground. From his place on the floor she sees him fumbling with his jacket, and she knows. 

 

And it seems that the crowd knows too, shifting slightly in fear and anticipation. 

 

A single shot rings out, loud and clear, and the crowd silences. The fight has ended too quickly, and the blood pooling on the ground is spreading too fast for comfort. Immediately the severity of the fight hits them, causing panic and pushing and everyone is trying to remove themselves from the situation. 

Clarke can’t see through the crowd, and Gustus is infuriatingly stoic, his face not helping her find out exactly who shot who. Shaking off his hold on her, she forces her way through the people trying for the exit. 

 

What she finds is heart-wrenching. Lexa is trembling, shuddering, on the ground, and there is blood spilling and pooling from her abdomen and mouth. The other guy is long gone, but Clarke doesn’t care, because she is cradling Lexa on the floor, and Lexa is barely breathing. 

Her tears mix with the blood smeared on Lexa’s cheeks, Lexa is dying but she is still so brave and loving, bringing a trembling hand to brush away her tears. 

“Clarke,” she whispers. 

And Clarke is breaking, hiccuping and hyperventilating as she grasps for something to do. Something to help Lexa. 

“Clarke,” she tries again, more blood spilling from the corner of her mouth. “It’s alright. Gus will care for you.” 

“No no no, please. I want you!” Clarke is desperate, furiously swiping and wiping at her face. 

Their final kiss is painful and bloody and full of bitter tears, and Clarke can feel the exact moment the life leaves Lexa. 

-

It has been thirty years. The club is ran by Clarke, in an attempt to remain close to Lexa. But all she does is drink by the bar, eyes vacant. 

Sometimes there are presents left by the door of the club, that nobody knows who left. And sometimes if one is too drunk, they may see a flash of brunette hair and green eyes by Clarke’s lonely figure. 

There are barely any visitors anymore, and the town’s children whisper about a blonde with fading feathers in her hair, drinking herself to a stupor, and talking to a spot on the ground. Parents use that story to scare their children to stop fighting.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want there's a slightly happier ending [here](http://ravenrxyes.tumblr.com/post/150818072338/copacabana)?
> 
> thank you so much for reading this word vomit


End file.
